Stealing The Kiss
by Lunar1
Summary: How did Sam Vimes and Sybil Ramkin ever manage to have a relationship? I attempt to answer this burning question in the first of a series...


Captain Vimes opened his eyes and groaned as the pounding headache and nausea synonymous with a previous heavy drinking hit him like a sledgehammer. He was in his own bed at the Yard staring muzzily at the ceiling, still half dressed and trying desperately to remember exactly what had happened preceding waking up. Oh yes, he'd been at Lady Ramkin's for dinner, and as always had partaken in rather too much of a bottle (or three) of one of her better wines. He stood up and winced, trying to blink away the feeling that his skull had been lined with broken glass. Staggering over to the mirror he peered blearily at the face reflected therein. He sighed, and reached for the razor.

He shaved carefully, his calm if slightly pained expression giving no clue as to the titanic internal struggle currently going on. Sam Vimes was not a romantic. Years of pounding the night-time streets for barely enough to live on had stripped away the meagre amount of romance he had had in his soul to begin with. However, a much younger Sam Vimes seemed to have awoken over the past few weeks, one the captain had declared dead by alcohol poisoning years ago. The Sam Vimes that remembered chance encounters and moonlit night walks, flowers delivered secretly and stolen kisses. He was trying to persuade the older, cynical Vimes to do something he was very much against.

It wasn't that he didn't like Sybil Ramkin. To his mild horror he actually found the aristocrat good company. She was the only person who ever seemed to talk to him that didn't live in his rather grubby world of night-time crime. She listened to him and treated him as an equal, despite the fact he got confused by the appearance of more than two forks at the table and she made him feel, well, not good about himself, that was impossible, but /better/. Better than he normally felt about himself, anyway. And yes, she was fairly attractive when looked at in the right light (and possibly down the wrong end of a telescope, as she would have been happy to admit) and she had a wonderful personality, common sense and self-confidence and all those other things that human beings place value on. But, and he was trying to make this very clear to his misguided younger self, he was /not/ in anyway attracted to her. 

Not at all. 

Not one little bit.

He valued her very much as a friend, that was all.

It was giving him some difficulty.

He sighed and finished shaving before washing himself in the cold water and stomping into the charge room. Sergeant Colon was sipping his cocoa at his desk as Vimes entered and he straightened up, hurriedly putting down his mug.

"Morning sir," said the sergeant.

Vimes flinched as Colon's voice seemed to scrape against his very brain. "What time is it Fred?" he asked.

"It's half eleven, captain."

"Anything happened last night?"

"Oh, Carrot arrested someone again sir, but we've got it all sorted now."

"Good," said Vimes, unable to think of anything else. "I'm going to get something to eat," he added after a bit more thought. "I won't be long."

He strode out into the streets, trying to convince himself not to think about Lady Ramkin again, trying to reassure himself that if he was invited round for dinner again he would politely refuse for once. He should make it clear that he could not reciprocate any affections she might feel for him...  
  


...And now here he was again, letting himself in the dragon house cautiously incase something more the usually explosive was occurring. Lady Sybil could not have been long finished mucking out the pens, they gleamed in the dying light of day. Vimes slipped into the ancestral hall, feeling a shabby as always, despite the fact he had managed to shave today and even put on some aftershave. It wasn't an expensive (or even particularly pleasant) scent but at least it was /something./

The table was laid as always and Vimes lurked awkwardly in the shadows uncertain as to whether he should go and sit down or wait for Lady Ramkin to appear. 

She solved his dilemma by appearing suddenly from a door almost hidden to his left and booming, "Come in Captain Vimes, there's no need to stand collecting dust."

"Er," said Vimes and she smiled at him. 

"It's Wilkins's evening off tonight, so I thought I'd better do the cooking. It's not very good I'm afraid, but still..."

Vimes glanced down at the trolley she had pushed in, and followed the food with his eyes as it was transferred to the table. It looked slightly burnt and smelt it too, which was decidedly promising. He'd probably die rather than admit it to Lady Ramkin, but he actually liked the crunchy brown bits found when things got a little bit frazzled in the oven. For once the meal looked like one he might actually enjoy.

Vimes had nearly finished his half-caramelised meal before he realised the customary bottle of wine was missing. Lady Ramkin noticed it too. 

"Ah," she said, "I knew I'd forgotten something... I'll just go and fetch something from the wine cellar. You can come and choose if you like."

Vimes stood up uncertainly. He wasn't good with wine. Vimes drank alcohol not for taste but for its powers of forgetfulness and as such probably couldn't have told you the difference between a cabernet and sauvignon. He followed Lady Ramkin hesitantly down a flight of stairs into the dingy cellar. She lit few candles and he suppressed a gasp. The cellars were /huge/. They were bigger than the entire lower floor of the Yard. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of bottles stacked neatly. 

"Do you want to choose, or shall I?" she said, smiling.

"Um, lady's choice I think," Vimes managed..

"Hhhmm," she said and he followed her among the rows and rows of bottles trying to ignore the information that seemed to be coming from his right hand that some of the bottle necks looked invitingly grippable.

Lady Ramkin was dragging a ladder across from a dusty recess and she set it against a rack. It creaked as she leaned against it to test it was secure and Vimes felt moved to speak before she attempted to climb it and probably broke her neck.

"I'll get it," he said quickly, "You can hold the ladder. Which one do you want?"

Lady Ramkin described the bottle to him and he put his foot on the bottom of the ladder. It groaned ominously but he found he couldn't manage cowardice in the face of Sybil Ramkin and he pulled himself up a little further, trying not to put any more weight on the ladder than he already had. He couldn't believe he was doing this while sober.

He managed to reach the top of the ladder and searched desperately for the right bottle. He really didn't know why he was doing this. He'd resolved to try and make clear to Lady Sybil tonight that he didn't return any feelings of affection she might feel for him but every time cynical Vimes had tried to get the words out more-romantic Vimes had bitten his tongue. Being gentlemanly was not going to help in these circumstances.

He found the bottle at last and began his careful and grateful journey back towards the ground, jumping the last few inches as the ladder lurched underneath him and nearly falling straight onto Sybil Ramkin. She jumped backwards out of his way and he landed mere inches from where she had been previously standing. "Sorry," he said. He held up the bottle for inspection. "Is this the right one?" She leaned in to look at the label and her perfume filled his senses. 

He began a bitter battle with himself as one half of him tried to breath deeper to savour the scent and the other half made to step backwards to maintain a safe distance. The two sides staged a confrontation that was over in a matter of mere seconds. A transcript of his unconscious thoughts might have read something like:  
  


I /don't/ like her! 

Oh yes you do. It's obvious. Why else did you climb the ladder? Why else would you keep coming to dinner, eh?

What!? Well, of course I value her friendship... I wouldn't want to upset her...

Rubbish! You're attracted to her. Look, your palms have gone all sweaty. Mind you don't drop that bottle... 

Its hot in here!

It's a cellar! Of course its not hot, you stupid man. Come on... just admit it. You like her.

No! I don't like her in that way at all.

You were daydreaming about her earlier.

No I wasn't!

I'm you, remember. I know all your little secrets...

Shut up! 

...And you had a dream about her the other night too... 

The conscious mind doesn't remember that.

Of course it doesn't. But we're the unconscious mind, remember. He doesn't actually /think/ these thoughts... they just happen. And we can remember dreams that the conscious mind discards.

Right. Of course. /Now/ I remember... oh. So I did.

See. You do like her.

So what if I do? I can't do anything about it. I'm no good for her! Let's face it, she can't really do any worse than me, can she?

Don't you think /she/ should decide that?

What are you suggesting?

I think you should... kiss her!

Kiss her! No way!

Excuse me, I thought I was supposed to be the childish side of the personality here?

Er, right. But you're still mad to think I should kiss her.

Why not? You're obviously attracted to her. The physical signs are so /obvious./

Yeah, but I don't want to get involved with her do I? I don't want to encourage any physical attraction. Which there isn't any of, by the way. 

Okay, but if you're going to break it off anyway, you might as well see what you would be missing out on. I mean, she's an aristocrat right. She's probably not a very good kisser anyway...

I can't believe I'm thinking this.

I told you, you're not. This is an inner struggle that the conscious mind translates as one of those horrible moments when your insides seemed to freeze and you can't think what to do.. You know, when the whole world seems to stop for a moment and await your decision. 

Right, with you now. I think. 

So go on then. Give her a kiss.

I'm not sure this is a good idea...

In the nanoseconds this exchange took place in, Vimes stared blankly at Lady Sybil in the anguish of indecision. Then the battle was won and as she looked up at him and opened her mouth to confirm it was indeed the right bottle he seemed only mildly in control of his actions and was hopeless to prevent himself as he leaned forward and kissed her. 

He sprang away after a few milliseconds of contact and stuttered; "I'm... I'm s-sorry."

There was a pause. "Don't be," she said. There was one of those hesitant moments that look fantastic in the moving pictures but are difficult to describe, where both people lean slightly inwards in a timid manner and bump noses before starting to kiss again.

When they broke away again Vimes tried to ignore the part of him that screamed this was wrong, that this was leading her on, or that this was simply his attempt to get his feet under the table... The fluttering of his pulse and slight dilation of his pupils could have told a watcher this was not so, but such thoughts would return to haunt Vimes time and time again as their relationship progressed.

"I didn't think well bought up ladies kissed like /that/," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she said with a slightly mischievous grin.

He couldn't think of what to do next but Lady Sybil solved that one for him by moving to kiss /him/ this time. 

...It was going to be interesting waking up tomorrow...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Okay, so maybe it's not exactly in character for Vimes.... But we have seen Vimes's softer side in Jingo when he /almost/ had a night in with Lady Sybil. Hope you enjoyed it anyway- Lunar.


End file.
